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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047054">In Between The Lines</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk'>ifdragonscouldtalk</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepin_the_Short/pseuds/Pepin_the_Short'>Pepin_the_Short</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Your Worst Inhibitions (Psych AU) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Detectives, BAMF Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Case Fic, Comedy, Complete, Developing Relationship, Emotionally Hurt Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Established Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, Father-Son Relationship, If you came here for Good Sarek you came to the wrong place (sorry), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure James T. Kirk, Insecure Spock (Star Trek), James T. Kirk Has Issues, Joceyln McCoy is horrible for Plot Reasons, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Psych (2006) AU, Rated T for language, Spock Has Feelings (Star Trek), Spock Has Issues (Star Trek), Spock has anxiety, These boys need therapy, Unhealthy Relationships, endgame mcspirk, graphic depictions of anxiety, psych au, sarek is a bad father</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:29:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepin_the_Short/pseuds/Pepin_the_Short</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why would we lie about something like this? If we were clerks or something, constantly calling in tips so you can arrest criminals, don’t you think we’d want your assistance and protection?”<br/>“Enough of this,” the woman spat, and Jim realized they had never told them their names. “Just stick them in a holding cell for a few hours.”<br/>Something zinged in Jim’s brain, and he knew that what he was about to say was so stupid it just might work. "Okay, okay, you got us. Now, we don’t like telling people this, but you’re giving me no choice.” A baited breath. “We’re psychics.”</p><p>AKA the Star Trek But it's Psych (2006) AU that no one asked for, with a side-helping of Spirk, Spones, and trauma: Episode 1. An understanding of the show Psych is not necessary for the consumption of this fic.</p><p>This episode - Jim tells a lie, Spock goes along with him, and they both never want to see an officer again. Meanwhile, Leonard has his own problems on his hands, and a kidnapping to boot. They all just have to hold it together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk &amp; Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy &amp; Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Your Worst Inhibitions (Psych AU) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. To Make Liars Out of Youths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Talon: WHOHOO! It's our first actual finished fic together! We have so much more in the works, but Pepin and I were so excited about this that we decided to do this a little bit differently. This first story is three chapters and will encompass the basic plot of the first episode of the TV show Psych. We have a lot more planned after this, but splitting it up by story instead of chapter gives you guys completed stories and us time to work on things!<br/>Pepin: I hope yall enjoy it! Dont worry with every bit of angst there will also be comfort. Because I love Tenderness! (Talon's note: I do not #whumpqueen) These boys are fools but everything will work out in the end. McCoy desperately needs a nap.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jim wished he could ignore the ringing of the phone. Unfortunately he knew who was calling him, given that there was only one person who ever called him, and there was always a possibility with Spock the problem would be an actual emergency (his heart still leapt up into his throat, sometimes, when he thought about Spock suffering alone) versus a “Jesus, Jim, can you ever keep it in your pants?” call. He sighed into the girl’s mouth (Amanda? Jessica?) and fumbled for the phone, pressing the accept button blindly.</p><p>“Turn on channel three.” </p><p>He hadn’t even said hi yet. He pulled back from the lips assaulting his, frowning dazedly. “I said turn on channel thr-”</p><p>“I heard what you said! Why am I turning on channel three?” </p><p>“There is something not right.” </p><p>Jim snorted, letting his head tip back as the girl (Tara?) ignored his preoccupation to assault his neck instead. “Spock, it’s the news, nothing’s ever right.”</p><p>“Jim.” There was Spock’s exasperated voice, quiet and controlled, and Jim almost laughed as he imagined the long-suffering look on his friend’s face.</p><p>“Jimmy, who’s that?” the girl (Naomi? no, definitely not) whined in his ear, and he heard Spock’s audible disgust over the phone. He just smiled at her, running his hand down her long back to squeeze at the ass that had attracted him to her in the first place, making her sigh breathily against his ear. Clearly for show, or maybe they were both drunker than he had previously calculated. Spock, for once, didn’t hang up at realizing Jim was otherwise occupied, insistently pressing on with whatever was on his mind.</p><p>“Jim, I cannot tell what it is, but there’s something wrong. Turn on your TV already.” </p><p>Jim sighed again, partly in surrender and partly because the girl (Ria?) had decided she didn’t care who he was talking to, and had pulled down the collar of his shirt to suck an impressive hickey into his shoulder. He scrounged around for the remote, finding it under the girl’s left knee, and turned on his TV. The report was a rerun from earlier that day, discussing a string of robberies of a home-grown radio store. “Okay, talk me through this. What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing that was stolen was of any true value, yet the store manager is saying they may have to close. He keeps fidgeting with something in his hands, and won’t look the reporter or the camera in the eye. He’s sweating. He’s hiding something, I just don’t know what.” He was silent for a moment. “Also, the news van tags have expired.” The last wasn’t immediately relevant, but Spock was prone to telling Jim anything he noticed, and Jim knew first hand how agitated he could become if he felt like either of them had missed something. </p><p>Jim let himself quiet for a minute as he synthesized what Spock had told him, watching the weasley man on the news feed sweat and fidget while the collected (and hot) reporter droned on, the undeterred girl on his lap continuing her movements. It took a few moments before his distracted brain finally got with the program and gave him the solution Spock was searching for, both Spock and the girl respectively silent as he straightened up with realization. “The manager did it, he was the one who stole and then staged it as a robbery. He’s probably planning on an insurance payout.” Spock made one of his ‘fascinated’ sounds, and Jim grinned at the girl in his lap. “Hey, can you take this one? I’m kinda preoccupied.”</p><p>“No, it’s your turn.”</p><p>Okay then, no goodbye either. </p><p>Jim sighed at the dial tone before smiling up at (Leslie?), leaning into the wet kiss she gave him before pulling back. “Give me a second, sweetheart, I gotta call the police real quick.”</p><p>“The police? You commit a crime?”</p><p>“Nope,” he grinned, popping the ‘p’. “Me and my best friend just solved one.”</p><p>“Solved one? Are you a cop?”</p><p>“Also no.”</p><p>“Oh... that’s a shame. I was hoping you’d have handcuffs...”</p><p>“Oh, I <em> definitely </em> have handcuffs.” </p><p> </p><p>“Jim, please tell me again why they wanted us to come down here?” The two of them had just walked into the station, and as far as Spock was concerned that meant the day was already starting off bad. It was Friday and he had taken off work due to the call, allowing Jim to drive him in his beaten up Stratus he had named the Enterprise despite his misgivings about allowing Jim to drive him anywhere. He fidgeted with the spinner in his pocket, the smooth weight against his fingers calming him as he forced back the memories of the station from before this fresh coat of paint and these new lights were installed.</p><p>“Oh relax, Spock, they probably just want to give us a commendation or something for helping.” </p><p>Helping was not what Spock would identify it as. He hadn’t even wanted to call in their ‘tips,’ that had been Jim’s idea at first. He had just wanted to get the mystery of the details off of his mind, and knew Jim was much better at that than he was, the first time he had noticed something strange on the news. It had spiralled since then, and he never expected it to culminate into walking back into this godforsaken hellhole known as the Santa Barbara precinct. </p><p>The station was bustling around them and they made their way over to the front desk, separated from the rest of the station by a sheet of glass, where a woman was talking on the phone, eyes wide and glittering. Spock couldn’t help but notice her conversation, the pictures pinned on the wall by her computer, the various paraphernalia and papers strewn around the desk, the plaque which identified her as Desk Sergeant Allen. Jim aimed his thousand-watt smile at her, the one that made men nervous and women melt, and Spock couldn’t help but be a bit amused when it didn’t seem to affect her one bit. She ignored them both and continued to talk on the phone, pointing to a row of benches up against the wall. </p><p>Jim’s smile faltered a little bit. “We were called down here for a reward? We helped solve a case.” ‘A case’ was an understatement, but it was true enough. They had solved dozens of cases for the SBPD, and had never been called in before. Spock would have preferred to keep it that way.</p><p>The woman glanced at him, and reemphasized the bench, glaring. “Come, Jim,” Spock said lowly in his ear, tugging his arm. “Leave her be. She has just lost her grandmother, and is mourning.” Jim rolled his eyes but followed, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.</p><p>“And how do you know that?”</p><p>“The various stones around her desk, the dream catcher, the pictures of her with an older woman, the phone conversation discussing her recently deceased loved one and palm readers. She has apparently been seeking to communicate with her, which you would know if you listened when people spoke.” </p><p>“You are way creepy when you do that, dude, no wonder you’ve got a hard time talking to chicks.”</p><p>“Fortunately, I, at least, do not call women ‘chicks,’ Jim. It is demeaning.” </p><p>“At least I don’t listen in on other people’s phone calls.” </p><p>They both took in the man already occupying the indicated bench, face tattoos and handcuffs and all, and grimaced, Spock edging away nervously. “His sleeve,” he muttered in Jim’s ear, and Jim caught sight of the glints of red along the dark fabric, subtly reflecting the dull light of the station. Jim’s eyes alighted in understanding. He sat down, Spock to one side and the thug on the other, and cleared his throat. </p><p>“So, buddy, you busted up your ex-wife’s car?” Spock made that noise, the soft one that meant he found Jim’s conclusion fascinating, and Jim resisted turning to explain.</p><p>The man glanced at him, grudging respect in his eyes. Jim wondered how painful the tattooed teardrop under his eye was to get. “Ex-girlfriend. It was her new boyfriend’s.”</p><p>“That’ll teach her,” Spock muttered under his breath wryly, but the man didn’t seem to understand the sarcasm, baring his teeth in what was probably a grin but looked like a sneer. Jim felt Spock shudder against his shoulder, and subtly pressed back in comfort. Spock didn’t do well with violence, and he was already in the middle of the police station, there was little more Jim could expect him to tolerate. It had taken forever to even drag him down here, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if he tried to stalk out.</p><p>“They’ve got no evidence.”</p><p>Jim hummed, raising an amused eyebrow at that. “You might want to brush the bits of tail-light off your shirt. Just a tip.” The thug looked confused, and Spock pointed towards where the chips of red plastic were caught in the rolled-up cuff of his sleeve. </p><p>“Hey, thanks!” </p><p>They both watched, grimacing, as the man brushed the evidence away... straight into his own boot. Jim went to say something, but Spock elbowed him, and he fell silent, watching as a minute later the thug was led away to be interrogated. He noticed Spock staring, and took in the man dancing clumsily next to the copier, a beat-cop still in standard uniform. “Bet he’s getting married,” Jim muttered, and Spock raised an eyebrow, glancing at him in amusement. “No other reason for a man to be so concerned with his dance lessons that he’d practice in the middle of the office.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>A Scottish accent got their attention. It was dance-cop, and Jim took in his genial posture and easy smile. “Mr. Kirk, Mr. S’chn? Can you follow me please?” Spock winced, and neither of them bothered to correct the man, Jim clapping a soothing hand on his friend’s shoulder. One day, he’d convince Spock to finally submit that paperwork to formally change his last name to that of his mom’s, but it would be a long time coming. </p><p>They followed the shorter man to one of the interrogation rooms where he told them to wait there and left, leaving the door open. Spock looked at Jim, his ‘this is your fault’ face pinched and drawn. Jim himself wasn’t feeling too pleased, staring at their reflections in the one-way mirror and pretending to fix his hair while he studied Spock’s posture, took in his searching eyes.</p><p>“Jim,” he said warningly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Jim, we are in an interrogation room. I told you explicitly the last time we were in an interrogation room-”</p><p>“I know what you said! Jeez, seriously, calm down Spock, it’s fine. I’m sure they just want some privacy. Sit down. You got your meds on you?” He wasn’t so sure anymore that this was as simple as he thought, but maybe they just wanted more information on some of the tips. They’d been calling in for a couple years now, undoubtedly some had already gone to trial -- although, there was little evidence that could be found through a TV screen, only hunches. Still, the reassurance seemed to relax Spock to some degree, and Jim knew the hand buried in his coat was fingering one of his anxiety toys.</p><p>“I do not need my meds, I-”</p><p>They both looked up as the door closed and Spock leapt from the chair, staring at the two detectives, taking in their frowns, the badges prominently displayed, the <em> case file. </em> “Jim!” he hissed, panic starting to bubble in his chest, and Jim gave him that look that he thought was soothing but was directly the opposite. </p><p>“Mr. Kirk,” the man said while the woman leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Mr. S’chn T’gai. Please,” he drew a chair around the table, setting them next to each other, “sit.” Spock watched tensely as Jim threw them that smile that he thought was disarming but was actually just the opposite and plopped down in the chair, stiffly lowering himself next to him. </p><p>“Jim,” he hissed, “I swear to God, if you got in trouble with Father again.”</p><p>“I didn’t do anything to the old man,” Jim hissed back. “Fuck, Spock, like I’d care about violating his stupid restraining order. You don’t live with him anymore, there’s no point getting near him.” </p><p>The man sat down across from them, his eyebrow raised. He was older by a few years, eyes a piercing blue that would ordinarily make Spock’s heart clench with a different kind of anxiety, soft brown hair curling softly at the temples. He was in civilian clothes, a button down and leather jacket and jeans, badge pinned to his chest, and Spock knew that meant he was a detective. He couldn’t help but wonder why two detectives would have them in an interrogation room now, glancing at the woman where she leaned against the wall, darker brown hair pulled into a severe pony-tail and brown eyes no less piercing for their color. </p><p>The man started to say something before cutting himself off, apparently changing course. “Why do you two think you’re here?” </p><p>Both Jim’s and Spock’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and they glanced at each before looking at the officer. “Well, we’re here for our reward, of course.” Jim didn’t sound as certain as he had intended. He and Spock both knew that if they were really here for something of that nature, they would be in a conference room, not a dingy interrogation dungeon.</p><p>The woman scoffed. “Your reward?” </p><p>“You guys arrested the store manager, right?” Next to him Spock was silent, rubbing his fingers together in what looked like a nervous gesture. Jim glanced out of the corner of his eye and noticed what he was doing, looking back at the fingers of the officers before meeting their eyes once more.  </p><p>The officer across from them pressed his lips into a thin line. “Why don’t you leave the questions to us?” </p><p>“You asked us why we thought we were here,” Spock pointed out quietly, raising an eyebrow, and it was the kind of quiet sass that normally had Jim rolling with laughter. “We have answered. If you had not arrested the store manager, why else would we be here?” </p><p>Both of the officers gave Spock a flat look, clearly unimpressed with the backtalk. Jim barely kept from grinning, smiling at them sweetly. “Can you both state your whereabouts the night of the last robbery?” the woman demanded. Jim and Spock glanced at each other, and Jim winced at the panic and anger starting to rise in Spock’s eyes. </p><p>“Jim was getting fucked,” Spock answered bluntly, glancing away. “Again.”</p><p>“Spock was asleep,” Jim continued. “Boring. He called me before she took her clothes off, and then promptly hung up.” </p><p>“You should not answer the phone when someone has their tongue in your mouth, James.”</p><p>“Hey, then we wouldn’t be here!” </p><p>“Can anyone other than the two of you prove that you were in your homes that evening?” The woman clearly didn’t like them, her smile almost a sneer, and Spock turned to look at Jim full on. Alibis. They wanted alibis from them, and Jim couldn’t name two people who were less socially inclined.</p><p>“Please, Jim, for the love of God tell me you remember her name.”</p><p>“Uh...”</p><p>“I am going to hit you, you absolute fool.” </p><p>“What is this about anyway?” Jim asked, desperate to keep Spock from spiralling into a panic attack in the middle of an interrogation. “We got you your guy, what more do you want?” </p><p>The man across from them scowled. “He has a partner.” Jim frowned back.</p><p>“What, we have to find that guy too? When do you start pitching in?” </p><p>The detective continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Your information is too good, too specific. And this isn’t the first time you called here either. You’ve called here dozens of times, your information good then too. So good, in fact, that it can only come from the inside. So what is it? The mafia, a gang, are you two some type of clerks for someone? I just don’t get your angle.”</p><p> “We just watch the news a lot,” Spock answered, and he was sounding a little desperate, fingers twitching like he wanted to bring his fidget toy out but knew reaching for his pocket with two armed detectives holding them in an interrogation room was a bad idea. “We said that on our tips. Channel three, sometimes channel twelve. When things don’t add up, we notice.”  </p><p>“Yeah, we’ve solved tons of cases for you. We’re not criminals!” </p><p>“Oh, but you both do have a record.” Spock grabbed Jim’s hand, tension in every line of his frame, and Jim forcibly relaxed himself in response, grinning loosely at the same time he squeezed Spock back. </p><p>“Those records are supposed to be sealed,” Spock about hissed, jaw clenched. </p><p>“We were sixteen. My fault, anyway,” Jim interrupted, smiling a thousand watts. </p><p>“He stole my Harley,” Spock was getting progressively quieter, his eye contact less. “I told my father when he asked where it was, and then tried to stop him from arresting Jim when he returned.”</p><p>“I was trying to impress a girl.”</p><p>“He arrested me for obstruction of justice.” Spock frowned. “As a <em> lesson.</em>” He practically spat the word, and Jim knew he still seethed over Sarek doing such a thing to his own son. “Then got a restraining order so Jim couldn’t see me until I moved out.” </p><p>“Which you did,” Jim said quietly, squeezing his hand. “And we’re here now.” Spock took several deep breaths and seemed to settle some.</p><p>The woman frowned and the man nodded, but continued, “We know, but that still doesn’t explain your information.” Spock’s breath hitched, and Jim was starting to get frustrated, now. </p><p>“Are you two boneheads? Why would we lie about something like this? If we were clerks or something, constantly calling in tips so you can arrest criminals, don’t you think we’d <em> want </em> your assistance and protection?”</p><p>“Enough of this,” the woman spat, and Jim realized they had never told them their names. “Just stick them in a holding cell for a few hours, I’m sure it’ll loosen them up.”</p><p>“Holding cell?” And there Spock was, voice high and breathy, two words sending him straight into a spiral, and it would definitely look bad if he started popping his anxiety pills now. </p><p>Something zinged in Jim’s brain, and he knew that what he was about to say was so stupid it just might work. He held up his hands. “Okay, okay, you got us. Now, we don’t like telling people this, but you’re giving me no choice.” </p><p>A baited breath. “We’re psychics.” </p><p>“Jim.” Spock’s voice sounded strangled, and his eyes were begging him not to make things any worse than they already were, panic and paranoia driving his fear, and damn but Jim wished it was irrational, wished he could contribute it to anything except his bastard of a paranoid father. In return, he urged Spock to play along. He could get them out of this, he could get them away from the situation and then they would just never solve a crime again. Let all these low-brow asses get away with their petty theft, when he was saddled with grand theft auto and Spock with obstruction of justice, ruining their lives forever. Fuck the system.</p><p>The woman had apparently had enough, throwing open the door, face painted in disgust. “That’s it, Officer Allen, book them.” </p><p>Desk Sergeant Allen walked in, and that’s when he knew he had this in the bag. He just needed Spock to play along, or stay quiet, long enough. </p><p>Staying quiet seemed more likely, as the male detective grudgingly pulled him out of his seat and towards the waiting handcuffs, panic making Spock twist in the hold and stare at Jim like he could fix the world. To be fair, Jim was pretty well-versed in fixing Spock’s world, and vice-versa. </p><p>“Your grandmother wants you to stop!” he shouted, and Allen stopped in her tracks, staring at him as her face paled slightly. He mimed feeling faint, standing and falling against the table. “She’s- she’s speaking to me...” He jumped over to Spock and grabbed his wrists from the detective’s hold, staring at his hands, carefully tracing the lines on his palms before looking back up at Allen, eyes wide for extra effect. “She wants you to stop wasting money on those palm readers because she’s resting peacefully.” </p><p>“Oh, for the love of God,” the woman snarled, grabbing him. His shouting had drawn the attention of other officers, and he kept himself from grinning with the Scotsman appeared in the door, wide-eyed. He ripped away from her grip, twirling himself in a circle as he hummed, dancing his fingers through the air. He hated that Spock’s hands immediately went to clutch his hair, but his pale face and dark eyes did wonders for the act he was putting on, made it that much more believable. </p><p>“One, two, three,” he muttered under his breath as he spun again, coming to a stop facing the Scotsman. “One, two, three... I’m getting dance lessons. When’s the wedding?” The cop’s eyes grew impossibly wider as his face split into a grin. </p><p>“Next spring,” he answered. “How did you know that?”</p><p>“You’re getting very good,” Spock told him kindly, voice shaking, even though they had both seen him stumble into the copy-machine earlier. “I’m sure your first dance will be lovely.”</p><p>“For God’s sake, I’ll do it myself,” the woman snarled, and grabbed hold of Jim again, her grip much more demanding his time as she pulled his collar tight around his neck. The man was simply staring, eyebrow raised, seemingly torn somewhere between amusement and unhappiness. </p><p>“Th-the man in Interrogation 3.” Spock’s voice caught on a stutter, and he wasn’t as dramatic as Jim, wouldn’t lie, but he could tell exactly the truth. “He did it, he busted up that car. You’ll find the evidence if you search him. His left boot.” Jim cried out, started shaking his left leg like the evidence Spock had spoken of was physically burning him, because if nothing else, they had to make this ridiculous enough to be believable. </p><p>The two officers looked at each other, disbelief and anger on the woman’s face and grudging respect on the man’s. He raised an eyebrow, almost challenging her, and she bared her teeth back before releasing Jim, shoving him back towards the table. “We’ll be back in three minutes.”</p><p>“Has the divorce gone through yet?” he called to their backs, keeping himself from glancing down at the tan lines on their fingers. They paused, and the cop with the Scottish accent was staring, wide eyed, and for a moment he was sure one of them was going to come back and punch him out, but the door just slammed in their faces, leaving Spock’s quick breaths in the silent room. </p><p>“Spock, breathe. C’mon man, you’ve been doing it for years, you know how to breathe.” He helped his long-time friend all but collapse into a chair, digging his anti-anxieties out of his inner jacket pocket and shaking one out into his hand. “Take it, Spock, it’ll help. Fuck, you should’ve taken one before we came in here.” Jim hated it when Spock was like this, much preferred it when he was quiet and sly and calculating. </p><p> Shakily, Spock popped the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry with a grimace. Jim sat with Spock, offering silent support as he calmed. A few minutes passed as Spock settled, clearly gearing up to give the lecture of a lifetime, and Jim was dearly thankful when they heard the soft voices of the two detectives just outside the door. Spock, looking decidedly less shaky, met his eye, and then they were both up, pressing their ears to the door like the pair of troublemakers they had always been.</p><p>"C'mon, Joce, we've got nothing to hold them on and the fact is, they've been right. Dunno how, but every one of their tips, along with their little show in there, has been correct." The male detective’s gruff voice was faint through the metal, but Jim grinned anyway, clapping a hand on Spock’s arm. Spock rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his lips. The man with the tear-drop tattoo must’ve been searched, and their ‘psychic’ evidence must’ve been found. Their celebration sobered quickly as they continued to listen, staring at each other with wide eyes.</p><p>The two detectives probably hadn't expected them to be listening at the door, had never expected anyone to hear their words. Didn't expect them to hear the soft thump of a body pushed against the interrogation room door, to hear the hissed venom. </p><p>"Shut up Leonard! You spineless, pathetic excuse for a detective. You know they have to be lying. Psychics aren't real! If they were, those two would've immediately known how weak you are, and laughed in your face. I bet they planted that evidence, or maybe that guy was in on it, but either way you can’t actually <em> believe </em> those fools? Your lack of conviction is the reason you'll never see Joanna if I can help it. Man up!" </p><p>The words were quiet, barely audible, but Spock and Jim heard them anyway, glancing at each other out of pale faces as they stepped back. "Spock," Jim started softly, and all Spock could do was nod, understanding what Jim was thinking immediately. They backed to the corner and Spock felt Jim take two fistfuls of his shirt as he watched the door, waiting for it to open, almost dreading the show they were about to put on. </p><p>The door creaked. </p><p>"Spineless, pathetic, weak!" Jim snarled in his ear, but the words weren't real and they weren't for him anyway. He watched as Joce and Leonard entered the room, hands automatically reaching for their weapons at Jim's apparent hostility, confused at Spock's calm gaze. He met those piercing blue eyes and saw those little chips that meant the man was just as broken as he and Jim were. </p><p>"You almost wish she would hit you, don't you?" </p><p>His quiet voice carried across the small room as Jim continued to hiss meaningless venom in his ear. Leonard paled, his head twitching just that much to the side, a tell if Spock had ever seen one. Everyone who was like them had one, one little tell that showed when someone got too close to the truth -- too small to be used as proof, too small for anyone but those who understood to notice. </p><p>"At least if she hit you, there would be proof of the abuse. But it's just her words. She's torn you apart." Jim had a handful of his hair, a soft grip that looked commanding, leading him away from the wall, shoving him into a chair, but he didn't break eye contact with the detective. He glanced at her, barely, took in the shock and, oh yes, he savored it, fear on her face, fear that she had slipped up somehow, fear that someone now had proof of the abuse she had put this poor man through. "If you had evidence, you could save Joanna from her, but you especially know how the odds are stacked against you in a custody case." </p><p>Both detectives were growing paler by the second, and Joce's hand hadn't strayed from her side. Jim grabbed hold of his wrists, and Spock understood his meaning, hating it, hating that even all these years later it was true. "The worst part is she possesses you. That you love her, right down to your bones, even though you hate her." Something he and Jim both understood far too well. "Or maybe the worst part is that even divorced, you won't escape her. She'll still be working here. She'll still own you. She'll still be able to hurt you with her words, through the little things she’ll be teaching your daughter, saying to her when you aren’t around." Jim sagged against his back, panting with apparent effort, and Spock knew better than anyone that it was nothing but a show, an embellishment to their apparent ‘psychic episode’. That didn’t stop the small shred of fear from spiking through him -- how many times had they curled up like that as children, Jim’s hot breath on his neck as he sobbed, quiet, because if Sarek had found them he would’ve thrown Jim right back out, either to sleep on the street for a night or to risk it slipping back into his own house, praying that Frank had fallen into a drunken stupor by then. </p><p>Leonard took in a shallow breath, eyes wide on top of a carefully neutral expression. The tense set of his shoulders spoke more of a cornered animal than a cop dealing with two potentially hostile suspects. Joce’s face had morphed into something twisted with rage. </p><p>“How do you know my daughter’s name?!” Spock couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, meeting her eyes for the first time and relishing in that fear again, enjoying that he and Jim could do that to someone who hurt someone else, even if it was sick, even if he shouldn’t. </p><p>“I believe Jim has told you we are psychic.” It wasn’t a lie, Jim <em> had </em> told them they were psychic. Leonard crossed his arms, eyeing them both as Jim collapsed in the other chair, allowing Spock to draw him close with an arm around his shoulders. “Does she look like you? I bet she doesn’t. I bet she looks exactly like Leonard, and you hate that, don’t you?” That was definitely Jim’s influence on him coming out in his words, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it when he felt the snort of amused air against his shoulder.</p><p>“You son of A BITCH!” The yell echoed in the small room, sound trapped within its walls. But she couldn’t do anything other than that, couldn’t make them taste her anger like they knew she wanted to. Teeth clenched hard enough to break gravel, she stalked out of the room. Leonard still hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, frozen into perfect stillness. Jim sat up, now, watching her as she left, and the serious expression would be wiped off his face once anyone but he and Leonard were there to see it. </p><p>“You deserve better than her, no matter what she’s said,” he said as he stood and pulled Spock with him, watching Leonard eyeing them like they were threats, sizing them up. Spock wondered what he saw. “She may not love you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.” Words they had whispered to themselves and to each other in the dead of night, over phones, over drinks, over tubs filled with ice cold water and toilets filled with vomit. Words Leonard probably needed to hear. </p><p>“You are breathtaking, Detective,” Spock agreed, and watched Leonard’s eyes narrow. He didn’t believe them, or they were both about to get socked for their arrogance. Maybe they both would have deserved it. “My mother is a lawyer, Leonard. She was always busier worrying about other people’s children than about me. If you need someone to help with Joanna, you clearly have my information.”</p><p>“Let us know if you need any help, man,” Jim said before pasting his standard smile on (fake, their smiles were so fake now that Spock couldn’t remember what it felt like to smile for real, and he was sure Jim didn’t either) and pulling the door open. “We won’t cause any more trouble solving cases for you.”</p><p>“Spock! Jim!”  </p><p>Jim winced and slammed the door shut again, making Leonard jump. “On second thought, maybe we’ll just stay in here for awhile.” </p><p>“This is your fault,” Spock muttered, closing his eyes momentarily to gather himself. </p><p>Chief Pike stormed into the room, arms crossed, taking them in. They were older now, but Jim still felt himself wanting to quail under his arresting eyes, wanting to prove himself. Instead, he crossed his arms in return, throwing his most disarming smile Pike’s way.</p><p>“You know these two, sir?” It took the detective a moment to get the question out, blue eyes still searching them for something he was unlikely to find.</p><p>Pike scowled at the two in question, and Jim dragged himself back from the memories of those days when he and Spock were young, memories which had been stirred up too much today already. “Unfortunately.”</p><p>"Good to see you too, Chris." </p><p>"That's Chief Pike to you, Kirk."</p><p>"Nice to see your thrilling personality is as intact as ever."   </p><p>“Hello, Chief Pike.” Spock was quiet, hands folded behind his back in the way that meant he was twisting his fingers together, meeting Pike’s eye bravely. Spock was always braver around Pike than Jim was.</p><p>The Chief sighed, dropping his scowl. “Hello to you too, Spock. Why are you two here today? I told you I never wanted to see you both in an interrogation room ever again, after that Harley incident.” Spock shot Jim a scathing glare, one that Jim refused to look at. </p><p>"I believe I expressed similar sentiments that day, sir.”</p><p> “Blame your detectives," Jim chirped, still grinning. Leonard frowned impressively, his shoulders still tight with tension. </p><p>“Oh? Detective McCoy, why are they here?” Pike’s scowl was back, a brow raised, and he was no less intense in his older age than he had been when they were younger and he was just Spock’s father’s boss. </p><p>“Well sir, Jocelyn and I were working the robbery-turned-fraud case. These two called in the tips and since their information was so spot on, we thought that they might be that missing partner we were looking for. We looked into it and saw that they had called in dozens of tips for other cases too, so I called them in to question them. Apparently, they’re psychics.” The two stared down Pike's incredulous look, already well-versed in hiding things from the man. </p><p>"We have some complaints about the changes you've made here, Chris. The new paint color. The harsher lightbulbs. Some of your partnership choices." Jim raised a challenging eye, daring Pike to ask and almost hoping that he wouldn’t.</p><p>Pike threw his hands up and huffed. Wisely, or maybe luckily, it seemed he was going to ignore the fact that one of his detectives had just declared them both psychics, given that all three of them knew that they were no such thing. “Oh, really? And what choice might that be?” </p><p>“Well, for one, Detective McCoy over there is in the middle of quite a messy divorce with Detective Bitchy-” Spock dug an elbow into Jim’s side, hard, and he coughed, “-I mean Jocelyn.” Pike frowned, glancing at Leonard. Divorce, the Chief probably knew about, but messy? Oh, it was so easy to hide those sorts of things, especially in a place where there were more important crimes to deal with; Spock and Jim had learned that the hard way.</p><p>"And I believe we just overstayed our welcome," Spock said before anyone else could speak, elbowing Jim again when he tried to interrupt. "I'd say it was nice to see you again, sir, but since the last time we saw each other you were accusing us both of lying, and you undoubtedly are about to do so again, I wouldn't want to give proof to such accusations. Have a nice day, Chief, Detective."  </p><p>Spock grabbed Jim by the arm and dragged him past Leonard and Pike, his fingers white with their grip on his wrist. It would be too soon if they never saw the place again. </p><p>“Never again, Jim.” </p><p>“I know, Spock, never again.”</p><p>"Hold your horses there, kids." Jim hated that tone. He had hated it when Chris told them they were lying about Sarek and Frank, and he hated it now. They both paused in their steps but refused to turn around, glancing at each other. This was it, the moment when they were saddled with another charge -- maybe it would be obstruction of justice again, or perhaps this time the lovely ‘hindering a police investigation’. After all, no self-respecting cop would believe they’d gotten their information because they were psychic, and Pike had shown he had no problems with the way Sarek taught lessons.</p><p>"Yes, Dad?" Jim quipped, knowing Pike hated his cheek.  </p><p>"I... I'd like your help with something."</p><p>Well that wasn't what they had been expecting.</p><p>They turned, slowly, regarding Pike with cautious eyes. “You want our help?” Jim was doubtful, and he could see anger and panic warring within Spock again, anger quickly taking the forefront over panic this time. With Spock, that was infinitely more dangerous, if only to Spock himself. </p><p>“Yes. Are you familiar with the McCallum family?”  </p><p>Spock and Jim shared a look. Where was this going? “Yeah, they own half the hill, right?” </p><p>Pike sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Well, there’s been a kidnapping. I was wondering if you two would be willing to help, with your... talents and all. We haven’t been able to get a break in the case and I thought you two might.”</p><p>"No thank you," Spock said almost before Pike had finished speaking, voice clipped and eyes burning. Jim felt about the same, his own long buried rage bubbling from somewhere within him that he hadn’t even realized he’d held on to.</p><p>"Why the hell would we want to help you, Chris? We've been trying, and it landed us right back in that room, accused of lying, again<em> . </em> Last time we asked <em> you </em> for help, you didn't have any to give." Chris winced at that, glancing away.</p><p>"I know, and I'm sorry. I should've believed you. But you guys are wasted in what you're doing. You're brilliant, you-"  </p><p>"And that's no thanks to you, is it?" Spock was well and truly pissed now, voice coming out as a low hiss, and it seemed they were going there, in the middle of the precinct lobby too. "Who is going to hire two people with sealed juvenile records?" </p><p>"We respected you, a lot, Chris." And Jim wished he didn't feel disappointed by that, wished it still didn't hurt. "Sorry doesn't fix what you allowed to happen."</p><p>Pike looked away, and didn’t look back at them this time. He was hurt, upset by their words, but he didn’t have a right to be. He wasn’t the one still suffering the consequences of his poor decisions. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. You can go.” </p><p>He walked away. Behind him, Leonard was studying them, and Jim almost hoped he could tell them what he found, given that he and Spock didn’t know what they were half the time anymore. They turned and walked out the door, hopefully for the last time in their lives.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. PS: Do You Love Me?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I could murder you,” he snarled as he dropped his samples and stalked back to his bed, cocooning himself in the blankets.</p><p>“Aw come on Spock! I made coffee,” Jim shouted after him. “I know who kidnapped Camden!”</p><p>Spock hesitated before emerging from his warm cavern once more, squinting blearily as he stalked back into the room with a blanket around his shoulders, plopping down into a seat.</p><p>“Make me tea, bitch.” </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Talon: Pepin is so much more patient than I am, but I HAVE CONVINCED HER! To allow me to post this three hours before it turns Friday..... You're welcome y'all. Hope you like this chapter! Here come the jumpcuts...<br/>Pepin: Hope yall like this chapter! Things start to heat up, and we also get some angst. Just a warning, some homophobic slurs are alluded to near the end. Happy early Friday yall!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Jim, remind me why we’re here again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because this guy has been missing for a week and neither of us know when to quit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unfortunately a fairly accurate summary of the situation, but Spock didn’t have to like it, tucking his hands under his armpits. Camden McCallum had been missing for almost a week; everyone in Santa Barbara knew about him. 18 months ago he had crashed his father’s cigarette boat into the Morrow Bay aquarium, but he hadn’t been out of the news for five years before that. There was always a scandal that Camden, black sheep son of the war hero, was right in the middle of, although Spock hadn’t heard anything since the boat crash, he realized. Jim detoured suddenly, heading towards the trashcans one of the servants of the excessively rich McCallum family had just utilized. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking for clues, Spock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the trash? You are disgusting.” But he peered over Jim’s shoulder anyway, frowning. “Why would they have three empty bags of dog food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The most expensive dog food on the market, too.” Jim looked at him, brow furrowed as he thought. Spock watched Jim file the information away, pieces of new but familiar puzzle to be solved. “Interesting that suddenly three bags are empty.” Jim gasped, “Oh my God, look!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim reached down into the bin, pulling out a small, leather case.“This CD case is totally nice! I’m putting it in the car.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock breathed out a sharp little sigh of air. “Jim, why do you do this? You are killing me. Me, your best friend.” Jim just grinned, running back over to the Enterprise and tossing the case inside before locking the doors again. “I cannot believe you even still use CDs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not my fault the Enterprise doesn’t have an AUX connection. You know you love me! Let’s go inside.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slipped in the front door of what could only be described as a mansion. Cops were milling about in the front hall, and it was a miracle that Jim and Spock walked inward unnoticed, scanning carefully for people they may know along with clues. They made their way to what they assumed to be the living room, now filled with detectives and various maps and diagrams as searches continued for Camden and the police waited for a ransom call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They paused when Leonard’s gruff voice drifted through the doorway, glancing at each other before pressing up against the wall to listen. “Dammit, Joce, how did you get those records unsealed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time, because you damn well can’t avoid me right now. I want to know! Maybe I am a coward, but those guys were right about one thing, and it’s that I damn well won’t let you bribe some judge just so you can convince my daughter I don’t love her. Who the hell did you get to unseal their records?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have my own sources. I’m not talking about this anymore!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock felt a tug on his elbow and rolled his eyes at Jim beckoning him down the hallway, his boredom and impulsiveness driving him to look around. They ended up in a small room by the staircase, filled with pictures of various McCallum family members. They glanced at the pictures, Jim browsing more than anything else, when something caught Spock’s eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim, come look at this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a picture of Camden and someone else, not a family member. The other person in the photo seemed to be around Camden’s age, and the two of them were holding a fish, a lake in the background. He was also clearly stoned, eyes bloodshot and grin just a bit too big. Spock did not approve -- fishing while intoxicated could be highly dangerous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is that?” Jim asked, frowning. “He’s bad news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Camden’s friend, Malcom Orso,” a gruff voice interrupted from behind them, and they both turned to see an older gentleman standing on the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. McCallum,” Jim said with a disarmingly sympathetic look. “We are so sorry, we can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now.” Spock wondered how the man could stand to be in the long-sleeved, collared shirt he was wearing when it was about a hundred degrees outside and humid, but perhaps he simply wanted to look his best while the police were crawling all over his home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes,” Mr. McCallum grumbled noncommittally. “Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim Kirk, and this is my friend Tom Hanks, we’re psychic detectives helping the SPBD with your case.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Mr. McCallum replied as he descended the rest of the stairs, ignoring the glare Spock shot Jim’s way at the fake name. Jim shot him a smile and a shrug which clearly said ‘he wouldn’t have believed your real name either,’ and Spock hated that he was probably right. “You’re right about Malcom being bad news. 18 months ago I told Camden he either cleaned up and cut him off, or he was out of my house!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And quite cleverly he decided to clean up, I suppose,” Spock said mildly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” McCallum said again, looking them both up and down before leaving without another word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim called out to him before he could make it very far. “Mr. McCallum! One more thing, did Camden have a dog?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Confusion washed over his features before he nodded. “Yeah, he did, never went anywhere without it. It ran away the day after he disappeared though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mr. McCallum. We’ll find him.” Jim had affected his sugar-sweet ‘good old boy’ voice, and it took everything in Spock not to roll his eyes. “C’mon Spock, I think we’re good here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed?” He couldn’t say he was sorry to be leaving, the presence of so many officers and so much wealth making his skin crawl, and he wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw Detective Jocelyn McCoy again, so he followed easily as Jim swaggered back to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna get lunch?” Jim asked, and Spock did, but that had technically been his lunch break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me back to work, Jim. You must refrain from kidnapping me so. My boss has begun to wonder.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spock woke up to the sound of a door slamming shut. He looked over at his clock; 6 AM. His heart thudded in his chest, aware that someone had just broken into his house. He moved before he could think clearly, rising quietly from his sheets, feet padding softly on the floor. He knew no one would be able to hear him, he was far too practiced at sneaking through a house. He grabbed his samples case as he exited into the hall: better to have an improvised weapon than none. Adrenaline coursed through him and his blood rushed in his ears, with a shout he burst into his kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only to find James Tiberius Kirk sitting at his kitchen table, coffee in hand, a smug grin plastered to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could murder you,” he snarled as he dropped his samples and stalked back to his bed, cocooning himself in the blankets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw come on Spock! I made coffee,” Jim shouted after him. “I know who kidnapped Camden!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock hesitated before emerging from his warm cavern once more, squinting blearily as he stalked back into the room with a blanket around his shoulders, plopping down into a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make me tea, bitch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim pointed to the stove, kettle already on. Spock continued to glare at him until he shifted uncomfortably; they were both aware that of the two of them, Spock was the one better suited to mornings, so when he woke up in a bad mood, Jim had a bad time. “How do you know who kidnapped Camden?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I looked some more into that Malcom Orso guy,” Jim leapt into the explanation excitedly, and Spock stared as he pulled a file full of pictures and documents out of nowhere and began to spread them across his kitchen table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim, stop. I have no need to see your research, I know you are capable. Did you stay up all night on this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. No! Maybe... This isn’t about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“James.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway! As I was going to say, no one kidnapped him!” Spock took a gathering breath, standing as the kettle began to whistle to pour his cup of tea and gather his thoughts, thankful that today Jim was feeling patient enough to wait for him to sit back down before continuing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He kidnapped himself. And Malcom helped him. They’ve been planning it for 18 months, ever since his dad threatened to kick him out. Stage a kidnapping, pocket his own father’s money for the ransom, then skip town the good kid in his dad’s eyes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock took a sip from his mug. “So, where is he?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim smiled and held up his keys. “How do you feel about a drive?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jim drove, since he was the one who knew where they were supposed to be going, but Spock wished he was the whipping past the gorgeous mountain pass on his Harley. Pavement eventually made way to dirt road after briefly passing through a small town. Jim pulled the Enterprise over in a seemingly random spot, and Spock squinted over at him suspiciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re here!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, get out. Follow me.” Jim proceeded to charge through the dense brush on the shoulder of the road, Spock glaring after him. Reluctantly picking his way through the underbrush after Jim, it wasn’t long till they made it to the bank of a large lake. On the opposite side sat an actual log cabin, along with a few kayaks and a red sports car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock was starting to get pissed. “Jim, why the hell are we here? What is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim pointed, with little dramatic flair, to the cabin across the lake. “That my dear, dear friend, is the Orso family cabin, where Camden and Malcolm spent their summers growing up.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim now, somehow, had a pair of binoculars. Spock, for the life of him, could not figure out where he pulled them from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a look.” Jim tossed the binoculars and Spock caught them, only fumbling them a little. He furrowed his eyebrows but did as he was told. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what am I supposed to be looking for, Jim?” There was a streak of movement, yellowy-blond. He was staring at a golden retriever as it paced the shore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that-?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Camden McCallum’s dog? Yes, yes it is. His name is Bumpkins, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your efficacy with computers would terrify the government, Jim.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Detectives!” Jim called in a rather annoying tone as he ran across the street, heedless of the cars which may be coming, Spock darting after him as the McCoys turned to look at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy seeing you here,” Leonard drawled, eyes searching them for something, not hostile but not trusting either. Jocelyn glanced at them before taking Leonard’s hand, her nails digging into his skin from what Spock could see, pulling him towards the restaurant heedless of Jim’s calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detectives, we’ve had a vision.” Both of them rolled their eyes, and Spock could see how they might’ve once been compatible, similar personalities and views before things had changed, perhaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you write us a statement, and then put it in the shredder?” Jocelyn shot over her shoulder, and Spock punched Jim in the shoulder to keep him from biting back something offensive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can this wait until after lunch?” Leonard sighed, pulling his hand from Jocelyn’s to face them again. He looked haggard, tired, and Spock had a significant inkling that they would be discussing the divorce during this lunch. Jim was about to interrupt once more, so Spock elbowed him in the stomach, making him cough and double-over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Detective, far be it from us to interrupt your lunch,” he said politely with an endearing tilt to his head. “A suggestion, however: do not order the grilled chicken.” Jocelyn snorted again while Leonard raised a brow and nodded, both ducking into the open-air restaurant.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them walked across the street, sitting down on a nearby bench. Jim’s face was scrunched up in the same way as if he was working on a particularly hard puzzle. He turned to Spock. “Okay, what’s up with the chicken?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You told me three days ago that Henry Pollux had the worst hay fever you had ever seen.” Jim frowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at who is working the grill.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim looked through the open-air seating and into the only visible part of the kitchen, which happened to be the grill. Henry Pollux was indeed working, and sneezed 9 times in a row as he was holding the chicken. As it so happened, Jocelyn and Leonard also saw this, both frowning in disgust, Jocelyn more so as she had actually ordered the chicken in direct defiance of what Spock had said. She slammed her hands down on the table, stood, and stormed outside. Spock rose easily to greet her, Jim scrambling to stand with him, as she shouted across the street, voice full of venom, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are we supposed to say when we go in, Jim? ‘Oh, it's exactly how we pictured it!’ Have you stopped to consider that psychics, while already absurd, generally do not share in their experiences as intimately as we share this?” Jim was thankfully interrupted from having to answer as Camden’s golden retriever bounded up to them, barking in excitement, making both of them drop to their knees to bury their hands in his fur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You worry too much. We’ll deal with it as it comes, Spock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do not worry enough. This dog has blood on his lip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?” Jim frowned, taking the dog’s face in his hands and studying it, grinning as his tongue lolled out in contentment at the attention. “I don’t see anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never do,” Spock sighed, but dropped it as he stood anyway, brushing the dog fur off his jeans.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them walked up to the cabin, the dog trotting on their heels. They opened the door and Chief Pike and both of the detectives turned to look at them, frowns etched across their faces. The smell hit them first, Jim swallowing down a gag, before they turned their eyes past the officers towards the scene which awaited.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bodies of both Camden McCallum and Malcom Orso were still and lifeless, blood pooled reflective on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim froze and felt the blood drain from his face, knew that Spock was having a similar reaction beside him. He was sure they looked horrified. Camden was face down on the floor, blood dark under his head against the tiles, while Malcom sat at the table, hand limp around a six-shooter and head limp against his chest, the flesh of his stomach torn around the bullet wound. Spock couldn’t help but notice the spilt coffee cup on the floor and the boiled over percolator on the stove. The same way he couldn’t help but notice the blood and hair on the corner of the table.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead.” Spock was the one to whisper it. Jim’s words had left him, just like his breath had, unable to do anything but look on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who let them in here?” he heard Chris say, but was more focused on helping Spock wrap himself around him, his hand cradling black hair as Spock pressed short, hot breaths into his neck, hiding from the world. He continued to take in the scene with wide eyes, and he wasn’t as good at spotting things as Spock was, but even he knew a shot to the stomach wasn’t the first choice for suicide. Something didn’t add up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Spock,” he muttered, because even if it didn’t add up, they didn’t need to be here any longer, but Spock shook his head and clung tighter, as if afraid Jim would pull away from him at a time like this. Jim couldn’t even feel hurt by it, because he had pulled away before when Spock had needed it, his own fears getting in the way. “Let’s just go outside.” The smell of blood permeated the air and the sounds of the officers moving, the feeling of their stares, was not what Spock needed right now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turned to go, Jim herding Spock to the best of his ability without separating them. He heard the snarled form of a vicious word dripping with venom, one they had been called so many times ever since they were children, and didn’t even need to turn around to know who it came from, that same vicious tone used on Detective McCoy days prior. He simply stopped, Spock’s clinging forcing him to stop as well, still hiding, still seeking his body warmth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was cold, even to his ears. “I didn’t know you had such low standards for detectives, Christopher.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let the cabin door slam shut behind him and gathered Spock ever closer, an arm around his waist and a kiss pressed to his jaw. “Bitch,” Spock whispered, and Jim conveyed his tacit agreement through squeezing him just a bit tighter, leading him around the corner of the cabin to a place a bit more secluded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore her.” But Spock wouldn’t. Jim knew he couldn’t. However much he tried, words like those always cut Spock to his core, another byproduct of Sarek. Three letters was all it took. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim,” he said softly after a moment, staring out at the water, his head on Jim’s shoulder as they trembled together with what they’d just seen. “Do you still love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do, Spock. I’ll never stop.” It was simple and true, more honest and kinder than they usually allowed with themselves or each other, but it would always be his answer when Spock asked. It had been his answer since they were fifteen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you still love me if I wanted to try and love someone else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Spock. I’ve loved you for twenty years, just because you need more than what I can give doesn’t mean I’ll stop. You haven’t stopped loving me for seeking out what I need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock simply smiled, relaxing a fraction, breathing in the damp air like it could purge something from him. “Parted from me and never parted…” It was the beginning of a poem Spock had written during those two years they couldn’t see each other without sneaking around, one well worn and often recited in their times of silence together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never and always touching and touched,” Jim said, finishing the line, the familiarity settling him, warmth seeming to fill him from his bones. They were quiet for a moment, listening to the waves lap across the stones of the shore, before Jim couldn’t help himself. “Is it Leonard?” Spock turning bright red was answer enough for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’ll understand us. And he is attractive, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After all,” Jim teased, but he agreed. “Don’t worry, I’m fully supportive.” Spock snorted, pressing a warm kiss to his temple, and entangled their fingers momentarily. It was intimate, and Jim wondered for a moment if he was changing -- it had been awhile since they had stood this close in public, been this honest with each other. Was it a product of the situation, the trauma relived? Or was he finally growing up, like he’d always hoped he would? He wondered if he could keep it up, if he could try and give Spock what he needed. He wondered if it was time to call those appointments that people kept telling them they needed. “Did you notice anything in there, Spock?” They both sobered, remembering where they were and what laid beyond the walls only a few yards from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Murder-suicide just doesn’t fit,” Spock said after a moment. “I am not sure what it was, though. There was coffee on, and someone had just poured a cup and then dropped it. There was hair and blood on the corner of the table, like Camden had fallen into it.” There was another moment of silence, and Spock was quieter when he continued. “I really did not expect them to be dead, Jim. I thought, because the dog was alive...”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They would be too,” Detective McCoy finished from behind him. Leonard had followed them, hanging back a bit to give them privacy as they collected themselves. He needed to give them some sort of apology for what his partner had said, knowing how sharply those words could cut, and subtly wondering if there was any truth to it. He was just close enough to hear the trembled question Spock had asked, and he felt as if his stomach dropped into his shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you still love me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Like words out of a nightmare, words that had been trapped in his chest for years but never escaped until she declared she didn’t, that she was surprised she ever could. He expected silence for an answer, something like dread had curled heavy in his belly and sharp in his chest. But Jim’s answer was just as quiet, just as trembled, and yet hit him like a scream, like a declaration from the mountains, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, yes, forever and always, I have loved you since the stars were formed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it made heat gather behind his eyes, left him breathless a few moments, mind blank, uncomprehending of anything but his own ringing emptiness and the fact he was intruding horribly. The words ‘murder-suicide’ shook him out of his reverie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why Spock turned bright red as they turned to face him, nor did he really understand the look Jim threw his companion. “Yes,” Spock said softly. “We saw the dog, it was what led us here, but there was no indication they would not be alive as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you win some you lose some,” Leonard said, belatedly realizing it was a rather morbid way of looking at the situation, and the two were, after all, civilians. Pike was not pleased that they had been allowed onto the scene, and was even less pleased with the words that had followed them out. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for Jocelyn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not expecting both of them to look politely puzzled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Jim scoffed, finally pulling his fingers from Spock’s, and Spock seemed bereft at the loss. “It’s not like you control her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or that you agree with what she said,” Spock added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I just- I felt that you at least deserved an apology from someone.” He cleared his throat, a bit bashful, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, thanks for the help.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a hasty exit, embarrassment and lingering lightness still pounding in his chest. Spock groaned as soon as he was away, burying his face in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he heard?” Jim laughed, slapping a hand on his friend’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I think he’s oblivious as shit, for all that he’s a detective.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, we absolutely ADORE your feedback. Please let us know if there was anything that confused you or anything that you really love! It makes us so happy, and we try to respond best we can!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Snarling and Snapping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He locked the door behind him, turning rapidly with a rant clearly prepared, but derailed at the sight of Jim pulling out his phone. </p><p>“Jim, what are you doing now?” </p><p>“Obviously, I’m calling the police. And before you ask, not on him, on us.” </p><p>“What?” </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Talon: This is it folks, the last chapter! We have started work on the next installment but with all the chaos in the world it's going pretty slow. Rest assured we'll have something out for you as fast as possible while keeping up quality and keeping healthy! Until then, I'll be updating/posting personal works with the goal of one chapter a week, and we're both available on tumblr! Here's <a>my tumblr</a> and <a>here's Pepin's</a>. We would love to talk to you about any and everything. </p><p>Pepin: What's up yall, I think you'll like this chapter! Things get a little hairy near the end but the boys have it under control. Hope yall are staying safe and healthy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jim stormed into the station, Spock hot on his heels. He burst in through the closed door of the Chief’s office, acting as if this was his house and not indeed where he worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chris, this wasn’t a murder-suicide and you know it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Chief sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with the vain hope of staving off a headache. “For the last time, its Chief Pike to you. Jim, all the evidence that we have points to a murder-suicide. An argument gone too far, a falling out maybe. The case is closed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chief, we just need to speak to the witnesses again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Kirk, that family has been through enough, understand?” He rose from his desk, a signed check in his hand. “I thank you both for your services.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock’s voice rang out from behind him. “Chief Pike, I believe we all know that a shot to the stomach isn’t anyone’s first choice for suicide.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike sighed again, this time tired instead of exasperated. “Spock, this is all the evidence we have. Until something new comes up this case will remain closed. And I’m serious about not bothering the McCallums, first their son was missing and now he’s dead, they’ve been through enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock’s jaw clenched, and Jim felt his own nails digging into his skin from how tight he had his fists. He lowered his voice, glancing at the door to make sure no one was about to enter. Pike looked exhausted. “Christopher, you asked for our help on this. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked</span>
  </em>
  <span> us to use our talents. And we did, and suffered abuse at the hands of your officers for it. And now, you’re telling us we’re wrong, again. I don’t know what happened, but someone killed those men, and you’re about to let another dangerous man walk free.”  </span>
</p><p><span>“Jim, I know what I said. I also said that you </span><em><span>shouldn’t</span></em><span> bother the McCallum family, and you definitely </span><em><span>shouldn’t</span></em><span> bother them when they’re all</span> <span>at the funeral. On Thursday. At noon.”  </span></p><p>
  <span>His anger fizzled away before it even got to full flame. He hadn’t expected Pike to respond with, well, that. “Oh. I see. So you’re saying that we </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>bother them at the funeral. On Thursday. At noon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Jim, Spock, that is exactly what I’m saying.” Pike’s eyebrows were raised a tad too high.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim grinned, devious. “Thank you for clarifying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lights were dimmed. The sun was setting, and most day-shift officers had already left, but Leonard’s lamp was on, still toiling away at his desk. Jocelyn had already left, probably to take care of Joanna while Leonard tried to avoid any more of her venom, so there was no one to glare at them as they not-so-casually stalked across the room, boxing Leonard in on either side. He sighed, not bothering to look up at them as he finished signing a report and closed the file. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bones, you know as well as we do this wasn’t a murder-suicide,” Jim said lowly in his ear, and that got him to look up, blue eyes piercing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bones?” Jim smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you feel it in your bones, Detective?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now I see why Spock is constantly threatening to hit you. Don’t call me that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, Bones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leonard,” Spock interrupted, not allowing the fight to continue. “We need you to let us look at those files. The funeral is tomorrow, and then there will be no more chances to solve this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The case is closed.” Leonard pushed back his desk chair and stood, crossing his arms and glaring at them. “Don’t see any point in tormenting these poor people anymore. Rumor has it Mr. McCallum tried to kill himself over it all. Slit his wrist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know this case isn’t closed. You’re too good of a detective for that. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> this case to be closed, or someone does. Open it back up for us. Let us see the file, just for a few minutes. We need to look at the witness statements.” Jim could see Leonard wavering at his words, finally scowling angrily and grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, along with a file off his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t talk here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shooting range was two blocks away. Leonard seemed unconcerned with carrying the file with them, flashing his badge for entrance and tossing their gear to them. Spock and Jim both slipped on the safety glasses but didn’t bother with the earplugs, snatching the file as soon as Bones handed it to them and skimming through it while he readied his target and checked his piece. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Orso was seen in the town by the cabin?” Jim muttered, and Spock glanced up when Leonard paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Twice. Earlier this week by a store owner. Before McCallum even reported Camden missing.” Bones gave them a significant look before sighting the target again, and they both glanced at each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was he buying?” Leonard let off another shot, stance stiff, before taking a breath to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Old man saw him on the street.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same man saw Orso on the street twice?” Spock frowned, and Leonard shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He had a modified muffler on his Nova, damned things. You could hear him a mile away. That part of Santa Barbara, you recognize an out of towner if they’re an ass like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” Spock muttered, skimming through the rest of the file while Leonard rechecked his now-empty piece and set it down, the fresh clip still waiting by the side. Jim hummed, moving forward to reload the Glock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna need a new sheet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no no,” Jim said as he stepped up to take the place Leonard had just vacated. “This is fine.” Spock placed the file down and stepped forward, holding out his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I, Leonard?” The detective eyed him before pulling out his other piece with a grumble, allowing him to take the empty space beside Jim.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim waited for Spock to get his sheet ready, before he aimed at Leonard’s old one. He let off six shots in quick succession, Spock following immediately after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The detective smirked. “I think you missed, Jim.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim let one of his private small smiles grace his face, ones that were usually reserved for only Spock, but now it seemed for Leonard as well, and shared a glance with Spock while they both checked their pieces. “Did I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He called both sheets up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leonard’s jaw dropped. Jim had perfectly shot through each of his marks, a sliver of paper gone from where it overlapped. Spock’s were a copy, to the point where he was sure if the papers were overlaid, there would be only minute variation in the placement. Astounded, he looked between the both of them. “How…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky shot,” they both said at the same time, shoving the file towards him and turning to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the help, Bones,” Jim laughed with a wave. “The spirits are definitely working now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right,” Leonard grumbled, not sure whether to be pissed, amazed, or confused as he stared after the pair, mind still churning when he turned to gather his twin Glocks.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was 11:45 AM on Thursday. The McCallums had just left for the funeral, the servants off work to mourn or attend at their discretion, and Jim and Spock were staring at their house from the Enterprise. Jim got out first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Spock, let’s finish this fast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot believe Chris actually endorsed this.” Spock sighed but followed without any resistance, glancing around as Jim dropped to his knee to unlock the knob, then taking his turn to disarm the alarm with the code he had seen entered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered. The house was clean, but it was too big, too empty, quiet. Ghosts roamed its halls and skeletons slept in its closets. They peeked in and out of rooms, looking for nothing in particular, just for something. Something odd, or something tiny. Ironically, it was in the living room -- the once base for the police investigation -- where they found it. Jim didn’t take a second glance at the oddly square bag, now stuffed with clothes and left unzipped, but Spock immediately went and overturned it, spilling its contents haphazardly on the floor. Jim stared, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim, come look at this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim knitted his eyebrows, confused but curious. “Alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not know what to make of it. There are rectangular indents on this bag. Five across the bottom, four deep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spock, give me a dollar, now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock turned to look at his friend, disgruntled. “Jim, I do not believe this is the time to ask to borrow money.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just... give me one.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Spock was scowling the whole time he yanked out his wallet and pulled out a singular dollar bill to hand to Jim, and his lips only twitched slightly when Jim stuck out his tongue childishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim laid the bill in the bottom of the bag, lining the corners up. Understanding dawned on him. “Spock this is the ransom bag. It had to have held at least four million, depending on the denomination of the bills. I know what happened now.” Spock raised a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! God, it was McCallum. He must’ve went to make the drop and realized what had happened. That clean-up act these past 18 months, the fact it was all a front to this last deal that would set Camden free from him forever.” Spock’s eyes were wide with dawning horror, with their own conflicted feelings about similar situations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Oh. No wonder there’s a rumor around that he tried to kill himself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock turned away, pale, eyes searching restlessly around the room. “No, not kill himself,” he muttered, stalking over to the bookcase where a prescription bottle had been tossed carelessly, probably on the way out the door. “I knew it. I told you, Jim!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told me what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amoxicillin-clavulanate. It’s a wide-spectrum penicillin antibiotic, used often in animal bites, as this prescription denotes. The dog did have blood on its snout, and he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt that first day even though it was boiling out.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bags of dog food in the trash, too, he must’ve tried to pacify it, maybe drive it away from the cabin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A door shut. Jim and Spock looked at each other in panic, both diving to stuff the strewn clothes back into the bag while looking for someplace to hide. They must’ve been exploring the house for longer than they thought, and now their time was up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me! What in the world are you two doing here?!” Mr. McCallum stood at the entrance to the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock and Jim froze, just for a moment before Jim had an appropriately sympathetic look on his face. “Ah! Mr. McCallum, we were just looking for you. I’m sorry, I thought I had left something here the other day and then I accidently knocked over your bag, we were just cleaning it up.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scowled. “What, so you just waltzed in here? I locked the door, I was just at my son’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>funeral</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Who even let you in anyway?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim looked back at Spock, fake shock on his face, even though McCallum couldn’t tell that. “An employee let us in the back door. Didn’t catch the name. Your son’s funeral was today? We didn’t realize, sorry if we bothered you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was laying it on thick, he knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were actually looking for you, Mr. McCallum. Although we first came here looking for my lost object, we were quickly overtaken with psychic visions. About who killed your son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim paused, a baited breath waiting for McCallum to respond. He didn’t, simply watching the both of them. Spock, however, had taken hold of his arm in a bruising grip, clearly trying to get him to shut up. Perhaps confronting a killer, alone, in his house they had just broken into, was actually one of their stupider ideas, but Jim didn’t know how to back out now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was you.” Jim continued before he could butt in, the man’s face growing redder by the second, and Spock’s grip tightening in parallel. “There was a ransom drop. You're doing everything they ask, didn't call the police. You're thinking of nothing but the security of your son; after all, what's $5 million to you? As long as they give you Camden back, it’ll be worth it. So you're driving away. I can see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you recognize that car. You pass it on the hill. It's Malcom Orso's, you've seen it hundreds of times at your house ever since high school, and never approved. You know where they are, of course they’re at the cabin. Camden's making coffee. You didn’t mean to kill him, did you? No. Just knock him around a little bit, teach him a lesson. That lesson you’ve been trying to pound into his head for years now, the one of responsibility, how to be a good person. But he falls to the floor, slams his head on the oak table. He's dead. You know he's dead, without having to check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Orso walks in with the money, finds you, sees Camden’s body. He's got a half-ass six-shooter, he's no criminal. You know there's only one way to cover your tracks. For you, a war hero, getting ahold of the gun is easy. You take care of him too, make it look like a suicide. Then you come home, inform the police Camden is missing, and you wait. You wait for a ransom call that will never come. The police eat it up, your friends in high places are pushing them for answers they can’t find. It's easy to look shaken after all you've done. You might even be willing to take your own life. An easy explanation for your wound.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of Jim’s tirade Mr. McCallum was bright red, tightly gripping the back of the couch. A glance at Spock showed he was contrastingly pale, clearly trying not to glare. “You both have an overactive imagination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What we have is proof,” Spock replied evenly, though his fingers were leaving imprints on Jim’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No proof that will hold in a court of law,” McCallum sneered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that an admission of guilt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not have this incident rehashed over and over again! Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock pulled him out down the hallway and didn’t stop until they made it to the car. He locked the door behind him, turning rapidly with a rant clearly prepared, but derailed at the sight of Jim pulling out his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim, what are you doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously, I’m calling the police. And before you ask, not on him, on us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim shushed him, frowning as he deliberately deepened his voice. “Hello? I'm calling from the McCallum residence. There are two intruders here who simply won't leave. They’re claiming to be psychics that work for your department. Mr. McCallum is enraged, and he wants this handled by the highest authority possible. Please send the chief immediately.” Spock was staring as he hung up, slack jawed and eyes blank, skin still pale, and Jim shot him a winning grin, making him shudder. “Okay, here’s the plan.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Squad cars poured into the driveway. It was really a bit excessive, how many beat cops they had sent out, when really they only needed Pike and the McCoys, being the most involved with the case. Spock’s color hadn’t returned but he had popped a Buspirone and clenched his jaw tightly, taking a deep breath and following when Jim left the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was, by far, Jim’s absolute stupidest idea to date. And Jim had a veritable plethora of stupid and bad ideas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Spock was going along with it, once again, which made him even dumber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This better work,” he hissed in Jim’s ear as they both leaned back against the side of the Enterprise, watching Pike climb out of Leonard’s Crown Victoria, both raising their brows when Jocelyn got out of the driver’s seat and Leonard climbed out of the back. The three made eye contact with them across the driveway roundabout and the front door of the McCallum mansion tore open, Mr. McCallum standing there with his face red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christopher, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>they? After everything my family’s been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be taken care of, believe me. They were given clear instructions to stay away.” But the look Pike gave them was a confused warning, a desperate want to know why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were there when they were supposed to be discreet. Well, Pike clearly didn’t remember them well enough if he thought they could be discreet, Spock thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jocelyn was bodily carrying a limp Jim away, already handcuffed, hands wrapped tight around his middle while she tried to force him into the back of a squad car. Bones was behind her, handcuffing Spock, who looked miserable and felt worse, still wondering how Jim had managed to talk him into this. Maybe he needed to reevaluate that testing for Stockholm Syndrome.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock began to bark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone stopped dead, except for Jim, who whipped his head around toward him, pulling and yanking on Jocelyn’s grip like a rabid animal. This, of course, all being part of the plan. Pike looked like he didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or cover them, face twisted like he was in physical pain. Spock only barely managed to keep the flush of embarrassment from his face when he got a look at Leonard’s expression out of the corner of his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim gasped like he was injured and all eyes turned toward him. “The dog. The dog.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock started growling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! He’s biting, he’s biting the intruder. He knows the intruder!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCallum started to stalk toward him, face dark and flushed. Spock was gratified to see the man was sweating. “Shut up you imbecile.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spock lunged at him, Leonard barely able to keep his grip on him, hand automatically going to the chain of the handcuffs. He barely kept from yelping for real as the metal dug into the sensitive skin of his wrists, sure to leave bruises later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The teeth are digging in. It hurts. It hurts. There’s blood!” At this point Jocelyn had gotten over her shock, and started trying to get him in the car again, managing to slam his head into the door, leaving him dazed for a moment. She jerked back, clearly not having intended to injure him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“McCallum.” Everyone froze and Spock fell silent. “It’s McCallum, I see his face. He’s the killer. Check his wrist. The dog bit him. Check his right wrist, the marks will match up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chief Pike looked from Jim to McCallum, wide-eyed. McCallum scoffed quietly, still glaring at Spock, as if daring him to do something more. But Spock didn’t need to do anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Check his wrist!” Jim was insistent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCallum finally snapped, whipping his head in Jim's direction. “No one is checking any part of me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pike’s eyes snapped to McCallum. “Why not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCallum snapped his mouth shut, eyebrows high. “Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s close this right now. Discredit them right here.” Pike’s eyes burned into him. “That’s a pretty nasty wound you got bandaged up there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCallum gaped like a fish out of water. “This is outrageous! Do you really want to do this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will call in a warrant if I have to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call my lawyers.” McCallum was breaking, losing his cool, eyes wide with panic and skin pale with sweat. Pike crossed his arms, raising a brow, severely unimpressed, and Spock was glad that for once the look wasn’t directed at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim gasped again, loudly. “I see a bottle, a prescription. Amoxicillin and clavulanate. It’s for dog bites. The wound is still fresh. Check his wound!” Jim just about howled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>McCallum faced Pike, eyes wild, taking in the cops standing around, Spock’s calm facade, looking as if he suddenly realized there was no way out of this anymore. “I-It was an accident- I didn’t mean-” Pike had a look on his face like he couldn’t believe that had just worked, and Spock fought to keep from mirroring the expression, feeling as Leonard dropped his grip in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sergeant, arrest this man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Jocelyn said audibly, her face shocked, hands still wrapped around Jim. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May you uncuff me, Leonard?” Spock muttered, turning slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, ‘course. Sorry for pulling, I didn’t mean to. You’re going to have some nasty bruises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is no trouble. Such comes with the territory.” Leonard could interpret that however he wanted. Jim was grinning widely at him, and Spock rolled his eyes back, hating that he knew exactly how to get him to submit to self-humiliation for collective gain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good job?” Pike said after McCallum was secure in the back of a squad car, watching as Jocelyn finally seemed to come back to herself and began to unsecure Jim’s cuffs, muttering to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still trespassing on private property,” Spock caught, and Jim leapt away from her with a sloppy mock-salute as soon as he was free, a darkening bruise already starting to form on his forehead where she had slammed it into the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jim,” Spock said as they stepped away, neither of them meeting Pike’s eye when he tried to catch theirs. “You are so damn lucky that worked. Lucky that they will not believe him if he says we snuck in, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it would work.” Spock snorted, letting his tension out with a huge breath of air. “C’mon, man, let's go get some dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spock was not pleased that they were back in the precinct once more. He was, in fact, only inside the building rather than out sitting with his Harley, Galileo, because Jim had taken hold of his wrist and refused to let it go, and he didn't want to start a fist-fight in the police parking lot, so he grit his teeth and bore it. He couldn't help the small spark of pleasure that went through him when Leonard noticed them and stood, a frown on his lips but a sparkle in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bones!" Jim chirped, grinning and waving as Leonard made his way across the precinct towards them. “Where’s Detective Bitchy?” Spock punched Jim hard in the shoulder, but Jim didn’t flinch and didn’t retract his statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joce got transferred, thanks to you,” Leonard grumbled. “Guess there were a couple complaints against her, and a glowing review of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t prove anything,” Jim replied offhandedly as he stared at Pike’s office. The blinds were all shut, door closed -- unusual. They had known the Chief for more than a few years, and he only shut the blinds when there was someone particularly important meeting with him. Spock’s curiosity was piqued, which meant Jim’s mischief meter was about to go off the charts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before it could, the closed door opened, and Spock felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs and his legs were about to crumple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something must’ve shown on his and Jim’s faces, because Leonard immediately stepped in front of them with a gruff, “Who’s that guy?” but Spock could barely hear him past the roaring of panic and blood in his ears as Sarek met his eye across the room, Pike over his shoulder with an unreadable expression as he spotted them, and all he could think was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh God, Jim’s here</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not in the middle of the station again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>bastard</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jim snarled, loudly, and Spock’s hand shot out of its own volition to grasp his arm tight, nails digging into freckled skin. He tried, he was trying very hard, to breathe normally, because when he could not keep his breathing correct Sarek was angrier, he didn’t understand why there was fear surrounding his next actions in Spock’s eyes and hated that Spock couldn’t control it, that he could not comprehend that he was simply trying to protect him- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spock?” Leonard was now in his eyesight, piercing blue eyes, and if he tilted his head just slightly he would be able to see Sarek again but he barely felt able to breathe, much less move. “Who is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s his dad,” Jim hissed, but he was just as frozen, Spock could sense his fear like it was his own. They couldn’t escape, they had never been able to. They had both come back here, to Santa Barbara, even knowing that he and Frank were both still in the area, because they knew nowhere else to go.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too late, the commotion had gotten his attention, even in the hubbub of the station. Sarek stopped, looking at them, expression piercing. And he turned. And left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said goodbye to Chief Pike. And left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after everything, Spock felt gutted. He was no longer even worth a second of his father’s attention. He swallowed, unseeing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am going home, Jim,” he heard himself say, mechanically. “Chris does not need to see me. Get a taxi home.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Spock. Yeah, okay,” Jim sounded distant himself. There was a fleeting thought that he should not drive Galileo home when he riding on the edge of a panic attack but it faded under the feeling of inadequacy that consumed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, neither he or Jim would ever be good enough. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please let us know how you liked the ending and what you think we have planned for the next installments or what you'd like to see! Stay safe and sane &lt;3 we're with you all</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please please PLEASE leave your comments and questions down below! We're definitely going to be responding to them and we desperately would enjoy feedback, particularly from those of you who have never watched Psych before! Much love from both of us, stay tuned for the next chapter!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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